


love, i hear

by orphan_account



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurotine Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), EmetWoL Week (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Emet-Selch, whose true name is Hades, hates meetings.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Original Character(s), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Original Character(s), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	love, i hear

**Author's Note:**

> An EmetWol Week 2020 two-fer, combining Day #2: Ocean and Day #3: Kiss!

Emet-Selch breathes a quiet sigh as he walks an odd silver coin between his knuckles. The coin, one of Azem’s myriad acquisitions from her travels, often served to occupy his attention during meetings of the Convocation; today, though, it does little to ward off the boredom. He flips the coin to his other hand and begins the process anew.  
“Emet-Selch.” The Speaker’s voice cuts through his inattention, a hot knife through wax.  
“Lahabrea,” he replies evenly. He looks up to see the other man glaring at him from across the table as he continues walking the coin between his fingers.  
“Is there something you would like to contribute to the discourse?”  
“Hardly. I made my stance clear with my opening remarks: I defer to the experience of those who are more intimately versed in the technicalities of the aqueducts themselves.” He raises an eyebrow to emphasize his disinterest and immediately remembers that the expression is lost under his mask; he snaps his fingers and the coin dissolves into a shimmering tyrian mist.  
“Noted and recorded.”   
He leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest, tuning out the voice. He regrets dismissing the coin and, with nothing else to occupy his attention, he lets his gaze drift toward the ceiling. _Azem, where are you?_ he wonders. _Certainly you’ve found yourself in a situation that requires outside assistance?_  
His silent invocation is answered by the continuing drone of his compatriots’ voices. He sighs again, resigning himself to a test of endurance, and forces himself to tune into the rising debate regarding changes to the city’s oldest aqueducts. Perhaps he can modify his position and redirect the discourse.  
< _Hades._ > Azem’s voice echoes softly through his mind and he bites the inside of his lip to stop himself from grinning; her timing, while rarely so convenient, is always impeccable.   
< _And here I was, wondering what mischief you were creating,_ > he sends back. < _Have I recently expressed the depths of my love for you?_ >  
Her laughter, nasal and grating and utterly beautiful, rings out. < _The meeting cannot be_ that _bad._ >  
< _You know it is._ >   
< _You really should get out of the office more._ > He can hear a grin in her voice. < _Lucky for you, your salvation is imminent._ >  
< _I am going to kiss you in ways that would make anyone in a pleasure-house blush._ >  
< _Mmm, are you sure? After all, you may get here and decide that you would rather I send you back to the meeting._ > Another laugh. < _Just be ready. Your opportunity should arrive any moment, but be mindful that I’ve no idea what excuse Hythlodaeus cooked up this time. I will remain connected until you are ready for the summon._ > She goes quiet.  
Right on cue, the doors to the chamber slowly swing open. Thirteen heads swivel to face the doors as a short, unfamiliar figure wearing a white mask enters the room. The figure hesitates for a moment, shifting uncomfortably in place, before speaking. “I beg forgiveness for the interruption. I have come for Emet-Selch at the behest of the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect. We have encountered an emergent conceptual crisis that requires his immediate intervention.”  
_‘Emergent conceptual crisis,’ hm? That_ is _a new one_ , he thinks as he rises to his feet. Out loud, he asks, “Permission to attend?”  
“Permission granted,” twelve voices reply in unison.  
He offers his gratitude and an elegant bow before exiting the room. The acolyte slips out behind him as he begins to make his way down the corridor.  
Pausing, he turns to face the acolyte with a smile. “You also have my thanks. Being asked to interrupt the Convocation is a daunting task and you have exceeded expectations. You may return to the Bureau without me.”  
The acolyte gives a quick bow and scurries off toward the lift. Hades watches to ensure that the lift doors are closed and that it has begun its descent before he reaches out to Azem. < _Ready._ >  
There is no response. Instead, the surface of his skin begins to tingle. He closes his eyes as the sensation accelerates to a burning numbness and the world beyond his eyelids explodes into incandescent light.  
As soon as the light begins, it is gone and the sensation of burning with it. The stuffy, humid air of the corridor gives way to crisp, cool breezes carrying the sharp odor of salt and fish. He opens his eyes and his vision is filled with Azem’s bright, grinning face ilms from his own.  
She presses her lips to the corner of his mouth before throwing her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. He wraps his own arms about her waist and pulls her close, allowing his lips to first graze at the exposed skin of her collarbone, then gently nip at her with the front of his teeth. A quiet, pleased noise escapes her throat and his heart begins to race as she presses herself tighter against him. Her scent. a soft earthy musk untainted by perfumes, fills his nose; her sweat and the sea air leave kisses of salt on his lips. He bites her again, more insistent, and finds himself wanting to taste all of her.  
His cock begins to stiffen and as she presses a thigh between his legs, he lets out a quiet, involuntary moan. She lifts her mouth to his ear and his eyes flutter closed. “You can show me how you’ve missed me when we’re alone,” she murmurs, rubbing her thigh against the front of his robes. Unsurprisingly, he can feel himself throbbing, getting harder with each pass of her leg.  
He pulls away, enough to be able to look into nut-brown eyes that are clouded with lust and mischief. “You could have indicated that immediately upon my arrival,” he whispers, feeling heat rise in his face.   
She laughs, but this laugh is deep and throaty and familiar; he often thought of it as her private laugh. “I couldn’t resist. Besides, I don’t think they quite understand what’s happening here.”  
He opens his mouth to inquire about her meaning, when he finally notices the quiet squishing noises surrounding them. He releases his grip on her waist as he looks around. To his left, sea and sky stretch endlessly toward the horizon. The sun had begun its descent and the clouds reflect streaks of pink and violet as the backdrop of the sky fades into twilight. The sight is breathtaking, but he hardly notices; his attention is drawn to the dozens of small creatures, gray and piscene, waddling across rocks and sand. Bipedal and standing only knee-high, many of them seem to be hard at work, gathering and building. Others are grouped together in small schools, squeaking out words and gesticulating wildly with their fins.   
_Curious and wholly unique_ , he thinks, narrowing his eyes as he observes one splashing about in the surf. Over the years, he has overseen a number of unique aquatic concepts, but never in his time as Emet-Selch had anyone proposed… _these._   
A series of squishes, louder than the rest, comes from nearby and together they look down to see one of the creatures. A single strand of coiled seaweed sits atop the creature’s head and they wave with a fin to catch Azem’s attention.  
“Pardon me, Big One, but we’ve finished construction for the day, yes, yes, and we are ready for you to see!” they squeak cheerfully.  
She laughs and kneels down beside them. “Ah, Gyozer, thank you so much for letting me know, yes, yes!” Her smile, warm and genuine, widens. He is entranced as he watches her interact with them, complimenting their very fine new hat and asking after the well-being of the others.   
Gyozer responds in kind, and looks up at Hades. “And who is this one?”  
“Gyozer, this is Hades. He’s… mm, well, I suppose you could say he’s my mate.” She looks up at him with a grin, and he can feel his eyes go wide.  
“…your mate,” he says faintly. “Ro, we’re not- we don’t have-”  
“Ah, I understand,” Gyozer says, nodding sagely. The creature eyes him up and down, scratching at their chin with a fin. “Yes, yes, a good choice. I am Gyozer, by the by.” A fin is extended upwards, and Haded leans down to touch a finger to it as though shaking hands.  
“It’s… my pleasure?” he replies,using his other hand to tug at the neck of his robes. He hopes she doesn’t notice but a characteristic nasal laugh tells him otherwise. He glares at her and she winks.   
“It certainly is, yes, yes. You may accompany Azem on her inspection.” Gyozer turns and begins squishing away.  
“In a moment!” she calls after them.  
Hades watches Gyozer waddle away, a sinking feeling in his gut. “What, precisely, are these creatures?”  
“The folks who live nearby have taken to calling them ‘namazu,’ as their appearance and physiology are reminiscent of one of Mitron’s creations that finds its way through the local freshwater streams in the spring and summer. The name suits them well enough, but most of the similarities between species end there.” She smiles fondly as she gazes at the tiny fish-people going about their business. “They are highly industrious and fully sentient, with an emphasis on curiosity and empathy. These little fellows have the capacity to reside near fresh- or saltwater, but for right now they are simple prototypes and may evolve in one direction or the other as their numbers grow and migrate.”  
The sinking feeling intensifies. He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but the mask blocks his grip. He maintains the gesture. _A prototype. A fully sentient species, capable of language and empathy. She would not… She_ did _not…_   
“When you say ‘prototype…’”  
“They are one of my most recent concepts, aye,” she replies with a smile, but her characteristic enthusiasm is gone. The sparkle of excitement in her eye is replaced by a gleam of a challenge and, suddenly, he regrets his earlier wish. Maybe she was right, maybe he _does_ want Azem to send him back to that swiving meeting. _‘Emergent conceptual crisis,’ indeed. Hyth, you bastard. A fully sentient species!!_  
His heart starts to pound and his face becomes hot behind his mask. He reaches up to pull the damned thing off and tosses it to the sand a few feet away, turning from her to observe the namazu. He sees them - wandering, waddling, working - and even through his frustration he is fascinated. With their small eyes, mouths nearly as wide as their heads, and barbels that protrude almost half again as far, he finds them rather charming.  
He turns back to her, and the expression on her face is unreadable. His irritation, quelled momentarily by the sight of the creatures, surges. “Ro, I love you more than there are stars in the sky, but do you have any idea how many regulations you have broken? Individuals are forbidden by law from conceptualizing sentient creatures without first consulting the Bureau!”   
“Mm. I lost count at fourteen, and there must be at least a dozen more,” she muses, but he knows that she could tell him precisely how many and which regulations she had broken. He also knows he will never hear a word of it. “And, if I recall correctly, the seat of Azem is granted emergency authorization to produce concepts in the field without prior approval from Emet-Selch, provided that doing so serves to prevent otherwise unavoidable loss of life.”  
“Yes, but sentience-”  
“-was precisely what was required to mitigate the ill-effects of the conflict that was brewing here!” The last word comes out as a shout, and a number of namazu look in their direction. Her face softens and she offers a small wave to them to indicate that all is well. The namazu go back to their tasks and she returns her focus to him. “Hades, please try to understand. The two dominant cultures of this area had begun to fight over resources and each in their desperation has caused destruction of local habitats and food sources, resulting in further conflict. These fellows, these namazu, have the capability to work as the stewards of the land and as mediators with the people. After only a fortnight the improvement in local relations has been marked.”  
“Have you considered that your namazu also require resources for their survival?”  
“ _You_ make the mistake of assuming scarcity is the reason for conflict! It’s a complex interplay between each group’s beliefs and values on top of a sheer refusal to compromise, not scarcity, that is the issue.” She sighs, and her shoulders droop. “Believe me, I tried and _you_ know that if I believed I had enough time to go through all of the official channels I would have done so. Not even you could get me a finalized concept within six moons.”  
He looks toward the vast ocean, his anger and frustration beginning to evaporate. It is his duty as Emet-Selch to reprimand her and elevate her case to the Convocation, but he also knows that she is right, that following the bureaucratic process would hinder her work in this situation. It was her propensity to act without asking that earned her the seat of Azem, after all. _Those who appointed her clearly never considered the enormity of their mistake_ , he thinks lovingly as he gazes at her.  
He hears her feet shift in the sand as she moves closer to him and takes him by the hand. He twines his fingers in hers and continues to gaze out at the sea. Together they stand, listening to the whisper of the ocean waves against the shore.  
After a moment, Hades breaks the silence. “Consult me next time, _privately_ if you must, but you know that giving me advance notice helps us both in the long run.”  
Her other hand moves into his field of vision as she reaches out and cups his cheek. He does not resist her touch and, as she turns his head to face her, she leans in and places her lips firmly against his. His free arm slips around her waist and he pulls her toward him, returning the kiss.   
When they finally separate, Hades rests his forehead against hers. “I _do_ need to get out of the office more.”  
Azem’s laughter echoes across the sea.


End file.
